A Piggly Wiggly Christmas (28 page)

All the other Nitwitts except Wittsie were present, of course. But they were generously augmented by Petey and Meta, who had returned from St. Augustine a couple of days earlier, all of the city councilmen, Marc Mims and Michael Peeler, Vester Morrow and Mal Davis of the Victorian Tea Room, March Ventress of the Town Square Café, the Reverend Quintus and Yolie Payne, all of the choirmasters except Lawton Bead and Lincoln Headley, and several other owners of businesses on or around The Square, including many whose buildings had gone up in flames.

“Are we the last to arrive?” Mr. Choppy wanted to know, as he and Gaylie Girl started to circulate around the crowded room, shaking hands and greeting people.

“Looks that way,” she began. “You’ll find out that this is going to be very much about you in your official capacity as Mayor. We wanted a big audience for the announcement. Oh, what time is it, by the way?”

He checked his watch and told her it was nearly two o’clock, but he couldn’t resist making light of all the suspense. “You’re makin’ me think Santa Claus is comin’ to town the way you’ve been carryin’ on. Does Myrtis have a chimney?”

She hoisted her glass of white zinfandel with a sly grin. “No, she doesn’t, but you’re not far from wrong about Santa Claus.”

It was then that Petey stepped out of the crowd with Meta in tow and tapped Mr. Choppy on the shoulder from behind. “Are you ready, Hale?”

Mr. Choppy swung around and greeted them cordially. Then he said: “Gaylie Girl’s been playin’ this mysterious game with me night and day, and now I find that everybody else here is in on whatever this is. So, yeah, Petey, I think I’m more than ready.”

“Then let’s do it,” Petey said. He and Meta moved to the center of the porch, where she chimed a spoon on her wineglass several times.

But it was Gaylie Girl who addressed the crowd after the general chatter had finally subsided. “Everyone, please. If we could have your attention. My son, Petey, has a very important announcement to make. So if all of you could just gather around with your drinks and pick-me-ups.”

Now the crowd was completely hushed as Petey motioned Mr. Choppy to move closer to him. “That’s it, Mr. Mayor. You just step right on up here and get ready to receive the Christmas present of your life.”

Mr. Choppy willingly complied, and Gaylie Girl accompanied him, hooking her arm through his.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Petey began, “all of you know why we are here this afternoon. In fact, our wonderful Mayor and my understanding stepfather right next to me is the only one who’s in the dark. I’m sure he’s about to burst at the seams to find out what’s going on. But if he’ll indulge me just a bit longer, I can assure him that everything will fall into place nicely. Of course, it hasn’t been easy keeping this news from him. So many of us have been sworn to secrecy, and I’ve been told a few of you have had a little trouble with that in the past.” There was an outburst of titters as she caught the gaze of several of the Nitwitts surrounding him.

Indeed, Renza couldn’t resist deflecting the unexpected attention. “If you are referring to any of us Nitwitts, you haven’t a leg to stand on. Being forced to reveal secrets against our better judgment is strictly one of our bylaws. And we uphold it quite well ordinarily, I can assure you. Only not this once.”

This time there was outright laughter around the room.

“As your future son-in-law, I can absolutely respect that, Miz Renza,” Petey said, while exchanging affectionate glances with Meta. “But back to the announcement. As I don’t have to explain to any of you, the fire that struck the historic Square earlier this week
has
threatened the very character of Second Creek as we have known it. I realize that I’m a newcomer from Yankeeland—” He broke off briefly as another wave of chuckles and giggles swept throughout the room.

“Oh, yes, it’s true. I am not to the manor born, so to speak. But I now have a substantial investment in Second Creek, since I’m the owner of Pond-Raised Catfish, the single largest employer in the county. As such, I have a tremendous responsibility to the community, and that’s why I’ve taken the steps I’ve taken.”

He paused and gestured toward Gaylie Girl. “All of you know my mother by now—the First Lady of Second Creek. But a few of you may not know that before she became Mrs. Hale Dunbar Jr., she was married to my father, Peter Lyons, of Lyons Insole, Incorporated. Perhaps many of you have stuffed his insoles into your shoes over the years to make it a little easier on your poor tired feet. For that, my family and I thank you from the bottom of
our
soles, and you’re certainly welcome to interpret that any way you want.”

There was a healthy appreciation of his pun throughout the crowd.

“When my father died a few years back, he was generous enough to leave my sister, Amanda, and myself quite a bit of money. To put it bluntly, we were both set for life. Neither of us could ever want for anything. Nor could our heirs, if we played our cards right. And I freely admit I’ve gone through periods in which I haven’t really known what to do with myself and my money. The same was also true for my sister, who is married and lives in Chicago with her husband and children. But now she and I have come to an important decision, and after all this buildup, I’d like to share it with you, the Mayor of Second Creek, Hale Dunbar Jr.”

It seemed as if everyone in the room had suddenly taken a deep breath in anticipation of the words to follow, no one more than Mr. Choppy. But finally Petey said them, and with an obvious conviction.

“I’m here to tell you this afternoon that my sister, Amanda Lyons Sykes, my mother, and myself have established a fund for Second Creek to be called The Square Deal. Amanda has just been devastated by the havoc wreaked upon The Square by the fire ever since my mother called and told her about it. On her first-ever visit to Second Creek this past summer, she was absolutely charmed by the historic architecture and the unique flavor of this little town. She remarked that she’d never seen such a concentration of interesting buildings outside of Europe. Traveling to historic places is her particular thing, you see.

“And since both Mother and myself are now living down here and have made Second Creek our home, she felt the sting of the fire’s destruction more than most. I gave her a call myself to discuss my concept of The Square Deal with her, and she jumped at the chance to contribute something meaningful and substantial. Therefore, among the three of us—meaning myself, my sister, and my mother—we are each contributing two million dollars, for a total of six million, to kick off a charitable fund-raising drive for Second Creek’s downtown. The Square Deal will make funds available to any merchant or building owner who wishes to apply in order to start over from scratch or renovate whatever is still damaged but salvageable. This money is to be awarded exclusively to those directly affected, and we will be vigilant about its use. Along with insurance payments, we envision these funds as being more than sufficient to restore what has been lost.”

Petey came up for air as the room exploded with chatter and light applause.

“Hale, I’d like to work closely with you on all the projects that are approved as a result of The Square Deal. Together, you and I can make sure that what is rebuilt conforms to the charm and authenticity of what was there before. And, of course, I encourage all of you here today, and any of your friends out there, to contribute what you can to The Square Deal. Even if it’s not money—even if it’s just your time. If we do this up right, we’ll have our Caroling in The Square on Christmas Eve this time next year to talk about, and so will lots of tourists from around the South. We’ll have our Square back better than ever.”

Petey reached out and shook Mr. Choppy’s hand as he said, “Well, Mayor Dunbar, Merry Christmas to you!”

Mr. Choppy swallowed hard, wondering if he just might lose it in front of everyone. But then he regained his composure, took another deep breath, and began speaking every bit as eloquently as Powell Hampton had taught him to do for his election campaign.

“I’m almost speechless,” he began. “But I’ve got to remember that I didn’t become your Mayor by keeping my mouth shut. I spoke up and promised to get things done in a new way. But honestly, I have to say I’m overwhelmed by the generosity of my wife and her family. I am privileged to be her husband and the stepfather of her children.”

At that point, Gaylie Girl gave his arm a healthy squeeze and leaned into him with the biggest smile she could manage. “Don’t be so modest, Hale. You bring a lot to the table yourself.”

The room rewarded her remark with more light applause.

“This is the Christmas present of the ages, as far as I’m concerned,” Mr. Choppy continued. “I know already that The Square Deal will not just restore buildings, it will restore lives and broken dreams. I know what it’s like to live with broken dreams. At some point you have to have resolution or you just can’t keep on going. The Square Deal will keep Second Creek going, and we won’t have to look back on what once was with regret. I thank all of you for getting behind this, and I look forward to working with all of you in getting The Square back on its feet again.”

At that point the celebration began in earnest.

“The Square is back!” and “Merry Christmas to Second Creek!” were the phrases of choice, and people never seemed to stop chanting them as they moved around the room eating and drinking and laughing. Petey and Meta were the first ones caught smooching under the sprigs of mistletoe hanging here and there. They were followed by the Reverend Quintus Payne and his wife, Yolie, and then Laurie and Powell, who stole more than one kiss.

Lady Roth made a point of cornering Gaylie Girl and Laurie with the inevitable question. “So I’ll be portraying the Star of Bethlehem after all? I’ll want to know so I can have my costume dry-cleaned and put away until next Christmas.”

“Yes, you go ahead and do that, Lady Roth,” Laurie advised. “We wouldn’t want the moths to steal your flames.”

Several of the freer spirits wandered over to join Myrtis and Euterpe in dancing to the program of rock-and-roll Christmas music that Myrtis kept spinning on her turntable. Among the selections that had people really getting into a loosey-goosey holiday spirit were Elvis’s “Blue Christmas” and Jimmy Boyd’s “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” Then the requests started up.

“Do you have ‘All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth’?” Councilman Morgan Player asked. “Man, that brings back memories. I think the first time I heard it, I was actually missing several of my baby teeth. I remember the tooth fairy and Santa came together that Christmas. I really cleaned up.”

“I have everything that was a holiday hit,” Myrtis answered. “Especially from the fifties forward.”

“What about that song where the guy—oh, you know—where the guy, uh, sings with the chipmunks . . . and it sounds like they’re on the wrong speed? You know—real fast,” said March Ventress, who was enjoying his third cup of Sarah’s rather potent spiked punch.

Myrtis had that one covered as well. “You must mean David Seville and ‘The Chipmunk Song.’ Raymond loved that almost as much as he loved ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry.’ ”

“That’s the one.”

So Myrtis played deejay as her guests indulged singalongs and paired off on the crowded makeshift dance floor. Then, having been abandoned by Euterpe, who had gone up to look after Pan, Myrtis herself rejoined the fray.

“You know, next year we’ll have to consider including some of these oldies but goodies in our caroling program on The Square,” Press Phillips was saying as he was waltzing with her to “The Chipmunk Song.” “Especially now that we’re reasonably sure there will be another event.”

“You can count on it,” Myrtis said, still slightly winded from her frantic exertions with Euterpe during “Jingle Bell Rock.” “No Nitwitt project shall ever fall flat on its face. I think it’s written in our bylaws.”

“By the way, I must compliment you on those cheddar-cheese balls with the pimento olives in the middle. I’m practically addicted to savory snacks like that,” the choirmaster added. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me the recipe?”

“I would if it were mine to give. But it’s Sarah’s, you know. She’s my indispensable cook and housekeeper. But when we finish this dance, I’ll take you out to the kitchen to meet her, and maybe she’d be willing to share her secrets. No promises, though.”

“You lead, and I’ll follow.”

“Not until this song is over, Mr. Phillips. A Nitwitt never leads a gentleman on the dance floor.”

About an hour later, the party had thinned out considerably. All the choirmasters, councilmen, business owners, the Paynes, and Lady Roth had left, but every one of the Nitwitts, as well as Mr. Choppy and Powell Hampton, remained. Petey and Meta had sneaked upstairs to his Mimosa Suite for a little privacy, as engaged couples in love are wont to do.

So now it was up to the inner circle to review the recent developments through the filter of much good food, drink, singing, dancing, and laughter. They had all pulled up their chairs around the turntable where Myrtis had programmed the music so efficiently, but at the moment they had reached a lull in the conversation. Then Denver Lee attempted to get things rolling again.